Hey everyone,
I just wanted to take a moment to apologize for disappearing for the past two months without any updates. Life got unexpectedly busy, and I needed some time to rest, refocus, and deal with things offline. I truly didn't mean to leave you hanging, especially in the middle of a story I care so deeply about.
Thank you for your patience and for still being here. Your support means the world to me, and I'm so excited (and a little nervous) to dive back in and share what's next. New chapters are coming soon—I hope they'll be worth the wait.
love, Kerkerlyy
"No, you're trying to control me," Eun-jae shot back. "And the funny thing is… I let you. I let you cage me up, I let you drag me to some icy-ass palace in the middle of nowhere, I even let you steal my first Christmas tree moment. So, no, Caesar—I'm not manipulating you. I'm begging you to act like a f*cking person for five minutes."
Silence. Heavy and electric.
Then Caesar tilted his head, eyes gleaming with something sharp. "You don't beg well," he murmured.
Eun-jae let out a scoff and walked closer until they were toe-to-toe, close enough that if he breathed too hard, their chests would touch.
"Fine. Let me try again," he whispered, his voice now low, calculated, but aching. "Please. Just a phone call. Let me hear my mom's voice. Let her know I'm okay. I won't say where I am. I won't even say your name. I just… I miss her."
Caesar looked at him, gaze flicking between his eyes.
Eun-jae saw it. The hesitation.
So he leaned in, pushing just a little more. "You think you're winning every game, Caesar. But you're just a lonely man with a thousand guards and no one who actually loves you. Not because you're unlovable—but because you won't let anyone love you."
That struck a nerve. Caesar's jaw tightened, just slightly.
Eun-jae softened his tone again, letting the words land. "You don't have to say anything. You don't even have to care. But if there's anything in you that remembers what it felt like to be held when you were hurting… then please, just this once… let me talk to her."
For a long time, Caesar said nothing.
Then, finally, he reached out—fingers trailing lightly over Eun-jae's jaw, not roughly this time. There was something weirdly gentle about the gesture, something unfamiliar. He leaned in, their foreheads almost touching, breath mingling.
"You're dangerous when you use that mouth for more than insults," Caesar whispered.
Eun-jae didn't move. "And you're dangerous when you pretend to have a heart."
Caesar's lips curled into that faint, haunting smile again. "I'll think about it."
Eun-jae's face dropped. "Are you serious?"
"You asked me to act like a person," Caesar murmured, finally stepping back, "not a miracle worker."
He walked past Eun-jae toward the bathroom, unbothered, steam already hissing as the shower turned on.
Eun-jae stood in the middle of the room, fists clenched, heart pounding.
Eun-jae turned sharply on his heel, ready to storm out and forget Caesar even existed, but then—his eyes caught it. The phone.
It was lying there on the bed like an invitation. Sleek. Silver. Menacing. Not your average phone—this thing looked expensive, like "could buy a small island" expensive. Heavy metal casing, sleek lines, and the letters VERTU IRONFLIP engraved on the side. Eun-jae squinted. Who even still had flip phones in this economy?
"Oh, you bougie little criminal," he muttered, snatching it up.
His fingers hovered. Just one call. One. That's all. His thumb slid along the edge and flipped it open with a satisfying click. The screen lit up.
Face ID required.
Then: Fingerprint required.
"Of course it needs both," Eun-jae hissed under his breath, clicking his tongue.
Still, he tried. First he held it up to his face like an idiot. Nothing. Then he pressed his thumb all over the screen. Still nothing. He tried tapping random numbers like he was some K-drama hacker genius. Nada.
"Come on, just let me—ugh!" he groaned in frustration.
He was so focused, he didn't even hear the soft swish of the bathroom door opening. Didn't register the scent of fresh soap or the faint shift in air.
"Stealing from me, honey?"
The voice slithered across his skin like silk dipped in danger.
Eun-jae jumped like the phone had electrocuted him. His eyes went wide—oh sht*—and he turned his head slowly, already bracing himself.
There he was.
Caesar.
Leaning against the doorway like a f*cking model fresh off a Calvin Klein shoot. His wet hair clung to his temples, a single droplet sliding down his jawline. A towel sat dangerously low on his hips, revealing that carved V-line that Eun-jae refused to look at (but maybe peeked once). His arms were crossed, muscles flexing slightly, and his smirk? Nuclear.
Eun-jae's brain practically fried. Oh my god. Why does he look like a wet Greek god. No. Focus. You're mad.
"I—I wasn't stealing," Eun-jae said way too quickly, holding the phone behind his back like a literal five-year-old caught red-handed. "I was... just... looking at it."
Caesar raised an eyebrow. "Looking at it? With your thumbs?"
Eun-jae stammered. "It's called multitasking, genius."
Caesar pushed off the doorframe, walking slowly toward him, towel still in place but threatening to misbehave at any second. "You're cute when you lie," he purred. "Terrible at it, but cute."
Eun-jae scoffed and stepped back instinctively—only to bump into the bedpost. Sht.* He straightened up quickly, pretending that didn't just happen.
"I wouldn't have to sneak around if you weren't such a controlling psycho," Eun-jae shot back, puffing up like a cat trying to act big in front of a lion.
"Aww," Caesar cooed mockingly, stopping just in front of him. "Is that your excuse? Poor little Eun-jae, held captive, forced to break into daddy's phone like a spy?"
"Stop calling yourself daddy, you absolute menace."
"I never said I was your daddy," Caesar teased, leaning in, his voice just low enough to mess with Eun-jae's head. "Not yet."
Eun-jae's jaw dropped. "You're sick."
Caesar grinned wider, tilting his head slightly. "And you're desperate. Desperate enough to gamble. Desperate enough to steal. And oh... look how far you're willing to fall just to hear a voice."
That hit a nerve. Eun-jae clenched the phone tighter, his throat suddenly tight.
"I miss her," he whispered, voice cracking despite himself. "Is that a crime? You took everything from me... the least you could do is not take her too."
Caesar's smile faltered for a second. Just a flicker. But then it was back—calculated, controlled.
"I didn't take her. I took you."
"And that's supposed to make it better?"
"No. Just reminding you of the facts." Caesar's eyes darkened, searching Eun-jae's face. "But maybe... if you ask nicer, I'll consider letting you use the phone."
Eun-jae stared at him. "I already begged."
Caesar leaned in, their noses almost brushing, towel clinging to his hips like a traitor.
"Then beg better."
For a split second, Eun-jae wanted to scream. Or cry. Or slap him again. But instead, he did what he always did—he fought back with fire.
Eun-jae shoved the phone into Caesar's bare chest. "Here. Keep it. Maybe you can FaceTime your soul with it—assuming you even have one."
He brushed past Caesar, cheeks flushed and pride wounded, stomping toward the door.
Caesar let him go this time, but his voice followed Eun-jae out, soft and dangerous:
"You're going to miss me when I'm gone, Eun-jae."
Eun-jae didn't look back.
But his heart did skip a beat.
Eun-jae was curled up at the far end of the long hallway, legs folded beneath him on a cushy, antique chaise. He was pretending to read a heavy book he'd swiped from Caesar's study—a dusty old leather-bound thing that smelled like secrets and power—but truthfully, he hadn't absorbed a single word. His mind was a storm. His heart ached with a quiet, gnawing longing. The silence of the house was suffocating, even though he was free to walk its gold-plated halls.
But "free" was a funny word when it came to Caesar.
Then he heard it. Click. Click. Tap.
The sound of bare feet descending the stairs with unbothered leisure. Eun-jae didn't need to look to know who it was.
He glanced up anyway—and immediately wished he hadn't.
Caesar.
Wearing black silk pajama pants and a loose button-down that wasn't buttoned at all, hanging open to reveal that stupidly sculpted chest. In one hand? A sleek black pistol. In the other? His phone. That damn smirk danced on his lips like he knew the ending to a joke no one else got.
"Aw, my little thief looks tense," Caesar cooed, voice like poisoned honey. "You still mad at me, sweetheart?"
Eun-jae snapped the book shut with a thud. "Oh no, I'm totally relaxed," he said sarcastically. "I always read better with someone pointing a gun at me."
Caesar chuckled darkly as he approached, gun dangling loosely at his side like it was an accessory. Then—without a word—he unlocked the phone and handed it to Eun-jae.
"Make the call."
Eun-jae blinked, staring at the glowing screen. "W-what?"
"I said, make the call," Caesar repeated, tone still playful, but the look in his eyes? Dead serious. "But if you try anything smart—like, oh I don't know, geolocation, code words, begging for rescue—I'll shoot you right in the head. Clean. No hesitation. And I'll send a lovely little photo of your corpse to your mommy. I imagine the heartbreak will finish her off nicely."
He grinned.
"Such a twisted little Christmas card, don't you think?"
Eun-jae's stomach twisted, bile rising to his throat. His fingers curled tighter around the phone. "You're disgusting."
"I'm efficient," Caesar said coolly. He raised the gun, aiming it lazily at Eun-jae's forehead. "Speak in English too."
Eun-jae scowled. "My mom doesn't speak English. Just Korean and Yoruba."
"Ah," Caesar said, nodding thoughtfully. Then, with the casual flair of someone ordering wine, he pulled out a small earpiece translator from his pocket and tucked it into his ear.
"Go ahead. Let mommy know her baby's alive. And watched. Very closely."
Eun-jae's heart was thudding painfully. His hands were trembling now. God, please don't let my voice shake.
He sat there, trying to steel himself. His thumb hovered over the call button. Just the thought of hearing her voice—after all these weeks of silence and fear and captivity—it was almost too much.
He hit "call."
The phone rang.
Once.
Twice.
Then—"Yeoboseyo?" A woman's voice. Soft. Familiar. Warm.
"Omma…" Eun-jae whispered. And suddenly, the dam cracked.
His throat clenched. His breath caught. Tears welled in his eyes and spilled over before he could stop them. A choked sob escaped his throat and he quickly wiped his face with the back of his hand, biting his lip so hard it stung. He wouldn't let Caesar see him break. No way.
"Omma, it's me. Eun-jae. I'm okay," he said quickly, in Korean. "I'm okay. I promise."
There was silence on the other end. Then—
"Eun-jae-ya?!" His mom's voice cracked. "Oh my God—where are you?! Are you safe?!"
Eun-jae's voice trembled. "I can't say. But I just—I needed to hear you. Merry Christmas, Omma. I love you."
"I've been so worried! Everyone's been looking for you! We thought—" Her voice broke. "I thought you were dead. Eun-jae, are you hurt? Did someone—"
"I'm okay," he repeated quickly, glancing at Caesar who sat nearby, legs crossed, gun still in hand, smirking like a king watching his court cry. "Just...please tell In-su I'm alive. And Eric too. I'm sorry for disappearing."
Caesar leaned forward now, gun lazily aimed at Eun-jae's thigh.
"You're stalling, honey," he murmured in English.
Eun-jae flinched, then whispered into the phone, "I have to go, Omma. Just know I'm alive, okay? I'll come back. I promise."
"Eun-jae, don't hang up—wait—"
But the line went dead. Caesar had pressed the red button himself.
"Time's up," he said sweetly.
Eun-jae stared at the blank screen, lips trembling, heart in shambles. He sat there frozen for a second, then looked up slowly.
"Was that fun for you?" he asked, voice hoarse, rage rising behind the tears.
Caesar smirked, sliding the phone back into his pocket. "Actually... yes. You cry so beautifully. It's like watching art suffer."
"You're a monster."
"I'm your monster, baby." He blew him a kiss, gun still pointed lazily in his direction. "Now stop being dramatic and come upstairs. Or do I have to carry you?"
Eun-jae didn't move. His fists clenched. But deep inside, something had shifted. That one call, that one moment—hope had returned.
And Caesar, no matter how powerful he was, had just made a mistake.
He will find a way out.
Eun-jae sat in silence for a moment after the call, his face tight, hands balled into fists. The echo of his mother's voice still lingered in his ears, soft and warm—so painfully different from the cold, marble-tiled world he was stuck in.
But he wasn't going to sit here and cry all day.
He had a plan.
And it started now.
He got to his feet, brushing his hands against his hoodie like shaking off the helplessness. His steps were light but deliberate as he padded toward the hallway, eyes locked on the tall, broad back of Caesar, who was casually strolling down toward the wine cellar like he owned time itself.
"Hey!" Eun-jae called, catching up. "Are there, like... animals around here?"
Caesar slowed slightly, glancing at him from the side with a bored look. "Animals?"
"Yeah," Eun-jae said, as if it were the most normal thing in the world. "Like rabbits. Or deer. Or I dunno... whatever the hell survives in this frozen mafia hellscape."
A beat of silence. Then Caesar turned, raising an amused eyebrow. "You wanna go hunting, bunny?"
Eun-jae shrugged, tilting his head with faux innocence. "Why not? You've got guns, right? Big man stuff. Guns, boots, snow. Sounds very... Siberian macho man of the woods."
Caesar folded his arms, still shirtless from earlier, wearing only the silk pajama pants that hung low on his hips. He studied Eun-jae like one would a particularly amusing cat attempting to act like a lion.
"You?" he said, voice drenched in amusement. "Out there? In the woods? You'd scream at your own reflection in the snow."
Eun-jae snorted, crossing his arms defiantly. "I'll have you know I once wrestled a squirrel in high school and lived to tell the tale."
Caesar laughed—soft, lazy, laced with that condescension that always made Eun-jae want to throw something sharp at him.
"Impressive," Caesar said dryly. "And this squirrel… did it sign a waiver before being traumatized by your existence?"
Eun-jae rolled his eyes. "You're insufferable."
"You're transparent," Caesar shot back smoothly, then leaned in a little too close. "What are you really up to, bunny?"
Eun-jae blinked, putting on his best I'm just a silly little guy expression. "Can't a hostage want a little fresh air? Maybe a little murder under the stars? I hear hunting is very... therapeutic."
Caesar chuckled, clearly entertained. "So you want to spend time with me. That's what this is?"
"Well," Eun-jae said, looking down, letting his voice soften just enough to sound genuine—just enough to play the part, "I figured if I can't go home yet... might as well get to know my captor. Bond a little. Maybe you'll warm up and stop pointing guns at my head every five minutes."
There was a glint in Caesar's eye now. Something darker. Curious. Tempted.
He leaned even closer, so close Eun-jae could smell the crisp aftershave and heat from his skin.
"Cute," Caesar whispered, voice a low purr. "You really think I'll take you outside with access to trees and no cameras?"
Eun-jae blinked. "Cameras? Wait—there are cameras outside?"
"There are cameras everywhere," Caesar said, flashing a grin. "You think I let a slippery little fox like you wander around without watching?"
Eun-jae scoffed. "God, you really are a control freak. What do you do, livestream me crying in the shower?"
Caesar smirked. "Would you like that?"
Eun-jae gave him a look. "You're disgusting."
"Yet you followed me down the hall," Caesar mused. "Begged me to go hunting. Wanted some quality time. Admit it, you like me."
Eun-jae nearly gagged. "I'd rather marry a sea cucumber."
"That can be arranged."
"I'm being serious," Eun-jae groaned, then let his tone shift slightly, casual and breezy as he turned and walked just a few steps ahead of Caesar. "Just think about it, okay? Tomorrow morning. You, me, guns. The snowy wilderness. Very poetic. Plus, if I trip and fall into a frozen lake, it's a win for you."
Caesar watched him with narrowed eyes, the gears clearly turning. "I'll think about it," he said finally.
"Yay," Eun-jae replied with a sarcastic thumbs-up, already internally mapping the escape route. His eyes flicked toward the far windows. Beyond the forest was the helipad. He just needed a distraction. If he could get Caesar out there… maybe lose him in the trees...
Maybe, just maybe, this stupid idea could work.
But then Caesar's voice cut through his thoughts like a knife.
"Oh, and Eun-jae?"
"Now what?" he sighed.
"If you try to run," Caesar said sweetly, "I won't shoot you in the head this time."
He stepped closer, letting his fingers graze Eun-jae's jaw, tilting his chin up just slightly. His eyes darkened.
"I'll break every bone in your legs, carry you home, and make you beg me to forgive you."
Eun-jae's breath caught. His mouth parted—words forming, maybe a retort, maybe a curse—but nothing came out.
Then Caesar pulled back like nothing happened.
"Sleep well, bunny," he said as he turned to leave. "You'll need energy if we're going hunting tomorrow."
And just like that, he disappeared into the hallway, leaving Eun-jae alone with the echo of his threat and the simmering fire of his own plan.
Fine, Eun-jae thought bitterly, eyes flashing.
If we're going hunting… then I'm aiming for freedom.